had Polyphem antiaircraft missiles, which could knock down helicopters and maritime patrol planes. They were loaded and fired four at a time through a torpedo tube. Using them now was entirely forbidden by U.S. ROEs—and they’d merely prove Challenger ’s exact location to the corvette and destroyer getting closer by the minute. Torpedoing those ships was absolutely not an option, and useless besides since the Russians would only send more.
Another deep tone filled the air, followed by a weaker, higher-pitched one.
“Bull Horn from the Grisha-V again. Udaloy has gone active with hull-mounted Horse Jaw.” The Udaloy’s sonar was more powerful than the Grisha-V’s, but the Udaloy was further away.
Jeffrey watched the tactical plot and listened to the sonar speakers. The helicopters began to circle, sometimes coming very close to Challenger .
The Grisha-V announced its arrival on scene with a louder blast from its Bull Horn system. The tactical plot showed her slowing, reducing her self-noise to get clearer sonar returns.
“Sit tight, people,” Bell said. “We can’t sneak further into the strait or they’ll track us for sure, by a Doppler shift in whatever fragmented echoes they’re hearing. Just sit tight.” An object in motion toward or away from an active sonar caused the returning ping to be higher or lower in frequency, enough to register on the active sonar’s signal processors—a dead giveaway of a genuine target.
Everyone waited for the Russians to make their next move.
People were jolted by three loud bangs in quick succession.
“Signal grenades,” Bell said before Sonar could.
Three grenades dropped one after another was the international signal meaning, “Unidentified submarine in my territorial waters, surface and indicate your intentions.”
“Sit tight,” Bell repeated. Three more grenades went off, much closer. “Commodore, any directives?”
Jeffrey stood and eased gingerly past the sonar officer, Finch, over to Bell. “Whatever we do, don’t surface,” he whispered. A junior enlisted man let out a yelp as three more grenades went off, closer still. “We don’t know for sure that they know that we’re here.”
“You do like to gamble, Commodore.”
“Get inside their minds. They don’t have a solid sonar return off our hull, with our out-of-phase suppression. They might think what they’re getting are garbled bounces off the backs of the spires. Whatever sensor data zeroed them in on this location could just be dismissed as a false alarm, or a whale.”
“Maybe.” Bell was starting to sound sarcastic.
Jeffrey brought his face a few inches from Bell’s. “They can’t be positive of an MAD contact because of these spires.”
“Only if they do have steel in them.”
“Yes, there is that.”
“The bomber might have gotten a lock on us, twice, by LASH.”
“I think the water’s too opaque.”
“And I think we should sneak away on auxiliary maneuvering thrusters. The longer we stay here, the better their chance to be certain they have a non-Russian sub in their sights.”
“We can’t move away from the spires. You said so yourself.”
“Not away, Commodore. Along.”
“You mean follow the fence east or west?”
“Yes.”
“No. If we move at all, their readings at this spot on sonar and MAD and even LASH will alter. They’ll grow more suspicious, instead of doubting they’ve got a real contact.”
Three more grenades went off: The Udaloy had arrived. In a few seconds, everyone in Control heard three more loud bangs.
“Commodore, how long before those become depth charges?”
“I don’t think they’d actually depth-charge us or launch a torpedo. They certainly might, but I don’t think they will.”
“Getting inside their heads is a much too iffy thing for me. Commodore, I cannot unduly endanger my ship. The people up there could be tired, or drunk, or just plain trigger-happy. Who knows what foul-ups are possible in Russian command
Another deep tone filled the air, followed by a weaker, higher-pitched one.
“Bull Horn from the Grisha-V again. Udaloy has gone active with hull-mounted Horse Jaw.” The Udaloy’s sonar was more powerful than the Grisha-V’s, but the Udaloy was further away.
Jeffrey watched the tactical plot and listened to the sonar speakers. The helicopters began to circle, sometimes coming very close to Challenger .
The Grisha-V announced its arrival on scene with a louder blast from its Bull Horn system. The tactical plot showed her slowing, reducing her self-noise to get clearer sonar returns.
“Sit tight, people,” Bell said. “We can’t sneak further into the strait or they’ll track us for sure, by a Doppler shift in whatever fragmented echoes they’re hearing. Just sit tight.” An object in motion toward or away from an active sonar caused the returning ping to be higher or lower in frequency, enough to register on the active sonar’s signal processors—a dead giveaway of a genuine target.
Everyone waited for the Russians to make their next move.
People were jolted by three loud bangs in quick succession.
“Signal grenades,” Bell said before Sonar could.
Three grenades dropped one after another was the international signal meaning, “Unidentified submarine in my territorial waters, surface and indicate your intentions.”
“Sit tight,” Bell repeated. Three more grenades went off, much closer. “Commodore, any directives?”
Jeffrey stood and eased gingerly past the sonar officer, Finch, over to Bell. “Whatever we do, don’t surface,” he whispered. A junior enlisted man let out a yelp as three more grenades went off, closer still. “We don’t know for sure that they know that we’re here.”
“You do like to gamble, Commodore.”
“Get inside their minds. They don’t have a solid sonar return off our hull, with our out-of-phase suppression. They might think what they’re getting are garbled bounces off the backs of the spires. Whatever sensor data zeroed them in on this location could just be dismissed as a false alarm, or a whale.”
“Maybe.” Bell was starting to sound sarcastic.
Jeffrey brought his face a few inches from Bell’s. “They can’t be positive of an MAD contact because of these spires.”
“Only if they do have steel in them.”
“Yes, there is that.”
“The bomber might have gotten a lock on us, twice, by LASH.”
“I think the water’s too opaque.”
“And I think we should sneak away on auxiliary maneuvering thrusters. The longer we stay here, the better their chance to be certain they have a non-Russian sub in their sights.”
“We can’t move away from the spires. You said so yourself.”
“Not away, Commodore. Along.”
“You mean follow the fence east or west?”
“Yes.”
“No. If we move at all, their readings at this spot on sonar and MAD and even LASH will alter. They’ll grow more suspicious, instead of doubting they’ve got a real contact.”
Three more grenades went off: The Udaloy had arrived. In a few seconds, everyone in Control heard three more loud bangs.
“Commodore, how long before those become depth charges?”
“I don’t think they’d actually depth-charge us or launch a torpedo. They certainly might, but I don’t think they will.”
“Getting inside their heads is a much too iffy thing for me. Commodore, I cannot unduly endanger my ship. The people up there could be tired, or drunk, or just plain trigger-happy. Who knows what foul-ups are possible in Russian command
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